


Tethered

by RavenZaphara



Series: Writing Prompts/Excercises [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Love Story, Love at First Sight, M/M, Magic, One Shot, unusual powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-17 22:30:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7288660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenZaphara/pseuds/RavenZaphara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Writing Prompt:<br/>"Write about a character who was born with the talent to see 'threads' connecting people who are meant to be together, like the strands of fate. Explore the mind of this character. And, worst of all, what would this character do if they saw a thread connecting them to another person?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tethered

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy this one shot I wrote a few months ago when I stayed up 48 some odd consecutive hours. Yaaaay exhaustion!

I see the threads. They can’t be cut, and as far as I know, I’m the only one who can see them. I learned to ignore them, and never said anything to the friends and family who struck out time and time again. The colorful, non-corporeal strands, I’ve learned, are the tethers of destiny, marking a person to whom a body belongs. 

As a kid, it hurt to realize that my parents’ threads pulled them to different people, and yet they always stayed. Mom would pass the man she was tied to in the street every day, but never noticed him. Dad would pass the man he was tied to, as well, but their eyes always lingered in connection. I wondered if Mom knew. 

I decided to never pay attention to the thread tied around my left wrist. It was always pulled taut, though it never physically tugged me. I took it as comfort that the bastard, whoever he or she might be, was far, far away. I prayed it would stay that way.

Friends came and went. I tried to experiment with people, but I could only get so far before I would see the string on their wrist tug. I would catch a glimpse of it changing direction. I felt guilty, as if by just enjoying myself as a free person was a crime. I didn’t want to hurt these people—but at the same time, I just wanted to feel. I wanted the control. I wanted to forget those damn cords.

Today was different. I ignored the cord, yes, but… I couldn’t help but notice it was slack. I felt sick to my stomach. I was walking down the street to the club where I worked when I noticed. I promptly turned on my heel and walked quickly in the opposite direction. No matter how quickly I walked, the string didn’t pull tight again. 

I heard a whimper, and was surprised to realize it was my own. I heard something in the background of my mind, but I overrode it with my thoughts of being late for work. I had to keep walking!

“Wait, please!” A voice called, and I froze. I urged my body to move, for god’s sake, move—but I was just stuck there, every muscle immobilized. Behind me, the man panted. “You… dropped something.”

I did turn then. The string was taut again—but it was only two feet long now. As I’d just known, this was the man to whom I was tethered.

I didn’t look up at him, just at his hands. It was cold, so he was wearing a light jacket. Over his wrist, under the thread, I saw the hint of a sleeve tattoo. His nails were short, but his hands were clean. He wore grey cargo pants and black boots. I refused to look up, refused to make that fateful eye contact.

I thrust my right hand out to receive my dropped wallet. It had fallen out of my coat pocket when I spun to walk away so abruptly, I suppose. “Thank you.”

He handed it over, his fingers brushed mine in the exchange, and I whimpered again.

“Are you okay?” He asked. There was something in his voice that made me look up, even though I had willed myself not to.

He looked like he was nervous. His hair was longer than mine, and black as pitch. His eyes were an icy shade of silvery blue, his bottom lip was pierced on the left side, his right eyebrow was pierced as well. He wore metal-framed glasses and a black beanie.

He thought I was afraid of him, I realized. His eyes struggled to meet mine before they darted away… to rest on my left wrist, where the string was tied. The flicker of the eyes seemed like a habit. When he met my eyes again, shyly…

“Yes…” I answered, finally. “I’m okay.” I said, and I realized that it was the truth

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoy my writing, please consider checking out my Undertale fandom pieces! I promise they're just as good if not better, since I am usually awake when I write them (and I've grown substantially as a writer since I first wrote this short story). Thank you, and have a lovely day!


End file.
